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They should be asleep.
That is what Wylan thinks as he hands Jesper the basket packed with things they stole from the kitchen. They should be in bed in different rooms, a few hours into a good night’s sleep by now. Maybe they would be, if they were sensible, or proper in any way.
They aren’t asleep, though. Instead, they’re a little drunk off a bottle of Kaelish whiskey Jesper nabbed from the Crow Club. “Kaz keeps the expensive stuff in the back for particularly wealthy pigeons that like to splurge,” he’d whispered. “I think he thinks I don’t know where it is, but my da taught me to sniff out the good stuff.” And then he’d giggled, and the way his nose scrunched and lips stretched into a silly smile had been so adorable Wylan hadn’t been able to deny him anything. So when he asked if they could get up to the roof, instead of saying “no”, or “we should go to sleep”, he’d said “Let’s find out.”
So now they’re here instead of asleep. Wylan is climbing a ladder that creaks far more than it should under his weight, and then he is joining Jesper on the roof.
“This is a bad idea,” he mutters. The grass below is very far away. He feels himself sway, and doesn't know if it’s the sudden realization that they are very far off the ground or the two drinks he’s already had.
“Those are my specialty, merchling,” Jesper says with a wink. It makes his cheeks heat. He steps back from the edge.
He watches Jesper take a swig of whiskey, and then cough. Wylan cringes, but Jesper just grins. “The good shit always makes your throat hurt,” he declares cheerfully.
Wylan wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think your father taught you nearly as much about alcohol as you think,” he says. It makes Jesper laugh, and he doesn’t quite know why.
“Da taught me nothing about alcohol. He caught me sneaking some from his stash one night, and I think I was grounded for a week. Guess he didn’t want to sabotage what little impulse control I have.”
Wylan wants to be listening, but he’s more focused on the sound of Jesper’s voice. It washes over him like warm water after a cold day, spreads through him kinda like the whiskey, tingling and warming his insides. He looks at Jesper instead of the stars or the ground, and it makes him feel drunker than he is. He thinks he could look at him forever.
“Look at the stars, love, not me. They’re prettier anyway.” Jesper’s voice is teasing. He should look at the stars, because that’s the entire reason they’re up here- to see what stars can be found in Ketterdam through the clouds and smoke. But Wylan doesn’t always like to do what he should, and he’s found himself to be a defiant drunk.
“No,” he says. Jesper looks away very quickly, and by now Wylan knows that means he’s flustered. He likes flustering him.
Jesper coughs, and starts rummaging through their basket. There are bars of baking chocolate, shortbread that’s usually served with tea, whatever fruit was left in the icebox, and anything else they could get their hands on. Wylan had made Jesper scrawl a note to the kitchen staff letting them know where everything had disappeared to.
“I don’t want them to worry,” he’d said. “Why do I feel like they’ll be upset with me?”
“They can’t be upset with you, merchling, you sign their pay checks,” Jesper responded. “Besides, you’re so cute no one can stay mad at you for long,” he continued with a wink. Wylan blushed furiously.
“My father certainly could,” he said.
“Well, you can’t expect a man with a receding hairline to have good taste, can you?” Jesper finished off the note with a little heart and a flourish, and then turned to grin at Wylan. “Now, what do you think is the easiest way to the roof?”
Wylan knows exactly how many stars you can see from the Van Eck mansion. He’d spent countless nights staring up at them, because under those stars were the only time he felt anything close to happiness or peace.
Jesper finishes spreading out their little picnic. Wylan probably should have helped him. When he turns back with a proud smile and a square of chocolate to find Wylan still staring at him, he looks away again. Wylan thinks he might be blushing, but there is very little light and Jesper’s skin is dark enough to hide any redness. Curious, and maybe just wanting to touch him, Wylan reaches a hand out and touches his cheek.
“Saints, Wylan, your fingers are so cold,” Jesper says, flinching away and batting at Wylan’s hand.
“You’re blushing,” Wylan says.
“It’s the alcohol.”
“No it isn't."
“Yes it is.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
Jesper pops the chocolate he was holding into his mouth. Wylan thinks he might be embarrassed.
“Maybe you make me blush,” he finally mumbles. Wylan grins. All this time, he has not looked away.
Jesper looks over at him again, and grumbles something before clumsily pushing at Wylan’s face. “Look at the stars. Quit staring at me, merchling, and look at the stars, it’s the whole reason we’re here. Look away.”
Laughing, Wylan finally does. He turns his head towards the sky, and looks at the stars. They are pretty, but Jesper is gorgeous, and the fact that Wylan can stare at him is still novel. He tries to look back over, but Jesper is quick to shove his face back with a petulant “stop”.
Dutifully, Wylan keeps his face turned towards the stars. “You can see two hundred thirty three stars from here,” he hears himself say. “I counted.”
Jesper shifts a little closer. “Two hundred and thirty three stars and not one’s even half as pretty as you are.” he whispers. Wylan feels himself blush. He can see Jesper grin out of the corner of his eye. “You’re blushing.”
“It’s the alcohol,” Wylan responds, deepening his voice in a poor imitation of Jesper’s. He thinks he rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite tell. He’s too busy keeping his eyes trained forward.
“Can’t believe anyone ever thinks you’re sweet,” Jesper mumbles. It makes Wylan snicker.
He fumbles for the bottle of whiskey and takes a sip. Jesper takes it from him, and Wylan thinks that he’s probably drinking more than he should considering they’re still sitting on a roof. Wylan is uncoordinated sober, so he’ll be no help if Jesper starts stumbling.
One of the things Wylan has learned about Jesper is that he’s a relatively quiet drunk. He likes to hum, and still says whatever thoughts pop into his head, but they seem to come slower when he’s intoxicated. Wylan doesn’t mind. He likes listening to Jesper talk, but he likes being quiet with him just as much.
“Wylan.”
“Yes?”
“Wylan.”
“What?”
“Why aren’t you looking at me?”
He has to bite back a grin. He’d been waiting for this. “You told me not to.”
Jesper sounds confused when he says “What?”
“Before. I was looking at you and you told me not to. ’M just doing what you said.”
“What- I didn’t mean- I wanted you to look away then, not never look at me again!” Jesper protests, and Wylan has to grin. He likes riling Jesper up more than he probably should, and it’s very easy when he’s drunk. Jesper forgets how to be anything but genuine, and he becomes the perfect target for Wylan’s mischievous streak. “Wylan,” comes Jesper’s voice, and it’s whiny. “I just didn’t want you staring.”
That makes Wylan finally look over at him. He’s beautiful, of course, and the bottle he’s holding is much emptier than Wylan remembers it being. “Why not?” he asks.
Jesper shrugs. He might be blushing again. “Makes me nervous,” he admits.
Wylan’s brow furrows. “You don’t get nervous.” Jesper shrugs again, and Wylan likes that he can look at him again. “You flirt with a lotta people and I’ve never seen you nervous.”
“’S different,” Jesper says. “They don’t make me… y’know.”
He didn’t know. He didn’t know what about him was so different to all the other people Jesper had flirted with. “Why would I be any different?”
There is silence while Jesper squirms. Wylan thinks he’s hoping he’ll change the subject, but he’s genuinely curious, so he waits for Jesper’s answer.
“It’s because I actually like you,” he says, finally. “Makes it different. I didn’t really care about them. I care about you. ’S different.”
“Oh.” He isn’t quite sure what else to say. I care about you too. You make me nervous. “I like you so much.”
When Jesper looks at him, his smile is wide. It’s so fucking cute, with the scrunch of his nose that got them here in the first place. Wylan finds himself reaching out to touch again, to trace the curve of his lips and the wrinkle of his nose and feel the heat of his flush. He finds Jesper’s eyes, closed now, and his hairline, where smooth skin becomes coarse curls. “What are you doing?” Jesper asks, and it comes out with a laugh.
Wylan traces his lips again. “I thought your lips were perfect,” he whispers. He isn’t sure Jesper hears it until his eyes open.
“Huh?”
Typically, Wylan would probably be embarrassed. But right now he can’t fathom being anything other than completely and wholly honest with the man in front of him, and that is nothing to be embarrassed about.
“When we first met. You walked in, and I thought your lips were perfect.” He expects Jesper to tease, and has a sullen defense already loaded. Instead, Jesper matches his honesty.
“I thought you looked like a prince,” he confesses. “A storybook prince. Fallen into the wrong story.”
Wylan feels a blush bloom across his cheeks. “Flatterer,” he whispers, but he can’t help his silly smile.
Jesper hums. “Flattery implies it isn’t true. You’ve always been too pretty to be Barrel trash like the rest of us.” His words slur together.
“You’re not Barrel trash.” Wylan says, and he means it. “I don’t think any of us are. Except Kaz.”
Jesper giggles, and then he starts to laugh, and his joy has always been so contagious that Wylan can’t help but laugh too. It’s not that funny, but Wylan thinks the alcohol has a hold on both of them, so he laughs. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to, and he doesn’t really want to, so he laughs, with Jesper, until his stomach hurts and Jesper his gasping for breath.
“C’mere,” Jesper says, after they’ve both remembered how to breathe. Wylan scoots closer, willing to do whatever Jesper asks. His hands, big and warm, press against Wylan's chest. Gently, at first, and then more insistently as he doesn’t get what he wants.
“What’re you-” Wylan leans back, and then farther, and then finally lays down as Jesper continues to push. Once he’s flat on his back, Jesper throws a leg over his hips and manages to curl his much longer body to fit entirely on top of Wylan. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Jesper shifts and nestles his head right under Wylan’s chin. Wylan slides an arm over his waist, and he feels Jesper relax into him even further.
“You comfortable?”
Jesper nods against him. Wylan brings a hand to catch his chin, and then tilts it up until he can see his face. “Let me kiss you?”
Jesper kisses him first, and it’s wonderful. He likes to kiss Jesper more than he likes to do anything else, and it feels especially good like this. When he pulls back, Jesper’s eyes are closed. Wylan can count his eyelashes and freckles, and he lets himself stare. He’s been told more than once that he has a bad habit of staring, but when faced with someone like Jesper, he doesn’t understand how anyone could not stare. Jesper’s mouth parts on an exhale, and he doesn’t try to move away or hide his face like he had.
“You’re so sweet when you’re drunk,” Wylan says. Jesper turns his face like he’s embarrassed, but doesn’t say anything. Wylan kisses his nose, and then drops his hand and lets Jesper tuck himself back into his chest.
“Tell me about the stars,” comes his sleepy murmur. “How many can you see from here?”
Wylan smiles. “Two hundred and thirty-three. Less than that, usually, but it's pretty clear right now.”
He has a feeling he and Jesper are going to fall asleep up here. He doesn’t mind, so he holds Jesper a little closer and tells him about the stars.